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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009301">Hot Twink Gets the Megarod</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RHplus/pseuds/RHplus'>RHplus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Strength Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:46:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,347</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RHplus/pseuds/RHplus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus knows what he wants, but not necessarily how to ask for it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Megarod Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hot Twink Gets the Megarod</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I happened to have this almost done chunk of MegaRod PWP at hand when the <a href="https://twitter.com/megarodweek">MegaRod Week 2020</a> came along, so here we have it! And it even kind of works with today's theme, patience.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rodimus had fantasized about it, Megatron just tossing him around like a rag doll, bending him in two and fragging him sore against the bulkheads until his plating dented and his paint scraped off in careless scratches. Maybe he should have felt guilty, but then again, you couldn’t much help what came up in your processor unbidden when you were trying to rub one out.</p><p>After the way Megatron had just <em> casually </em> torn apart those solid durasteel cuffs in the Functionist Universe like it was <em> nothing </em> , when none of them could have—frag, it was hot. Just thinking about it, Rodimus’ fuel pump sped up until he could feel the throbbing deep down in his frame. It <em> did </em> taste bitter afterwards, when Megatron wasn’t there, but he couldn’t help it.</p><p>Rodimus had thought they’d never see each other again, that his attraction would fizzle out in its futility, and perhaps that would have been alright. But then, impossibly, they did find each other again. Then, months and years and <em> shenanigans </em> later, reunited and in no rush because they had a forever now, they finally hooked up: Rodimus managed to entice Megatron into his hab, pulling on that solid forearm, as thick as his waist.</p><p>His fans were swooshing audibly, cycling deep ventilations from his core as he fought to keep his composure for Megatron’s benefit—the mech was surprisingly prudish for an ex-Decepticon, particularly considering all the <em> stories </em> about him. If he reached out to paw the angles of the black hips, about of a height with his chin, thinking of how he’d need nothing more than to nod a bit to reach the spike hiding underneath, it was—it was to be expected, wasn’t it?</p><p>Still, Rodimus couldn’t frag this up, not after all the trouble he’d gone through to get Megatron to understand Rodimus honestly just lo...liked him and wanted to pursue a relationship. The ex-leader of all Decepticons had to <em> romanced </em>: Rodimus would need to get his honest feelings across. The more adventurous stuff could come later. Learn to walk before you try running, as they say. At least the mech himself kept smiling down at Rodimus, following in step with him with a palm at the small of his back.</p><p>Rodimus enjoyed the way he could hang himself on Megatron’s chassis without remarkably hindering him at all, it was like he was no more than an accessory. If he wanted to, he could probably climb the mech like a jungle gym! And well, that was the only way he’d reach his lips to kiss, anyway, unless Megatron bent down.</p><p>Before he could, though, Megatron instead gave in under his grip and descended on one knee in front of Rodimus, smiling that small smile he’d come to know after the wayward co-captain had returned from the Functionist Universe. Rodimus’ surprise was dispelled by the overriding sensation of Megatron moving close to kiss him, warm and passionate and…painstakingly careful, tender, <em> polite </em>.</p><p>--</p><p>The interfacing wasn’t bad, of course it wasn’t: Megatron was chivalry itself, clever mouth and fast glossa on Rodimus’ burning array, persistently coaxing overload after overload from him. Thick fingers, still so careful and unfairly dexterous, filling him up to a degree of delicious stretch with a frustrating lack of effort. And never did he so much as move Rodimus’ legs without asking, he’d just brush his plating lightly to guide Rodimus into opening up himself…</p><p>It wasn’t <em> bad </em> —it was good, <em> great </em> even! Megatron was even pretty obviously enjoying himself: he may have been the number one most devious schemer on Cybertron once upon a time, but Rodimus didn’t think anyone could fake such an intensely <em> tender </em> look, or such a loving trail of kisses around Rodimus’ trembling components. He didn’t seem to be getting off himself, but even so he just, positively <em> radiated </em>happiness when he cuddled Rodimus afterwards, and Rodimus couldn’t bear to question him about it.</p><p>So, it was <em> good </em>...but it was not what Rodimus had dreamed up by himself and kept secret afterwards, because it might have sounded wrong. Wasn’t what had—what still made him so hot it almost hurt.</p><p>Megatron, being the unfairly perceptive slagger that he was, eventually caught on to how Rodimus’ intake twisted as he writhed on the berth, venting hard and wafting shimmery, heated air. (Eventually, as in during their fourth or so <em> private meeting </em> —when Rodimus had maybe gotten at least a little used to being <em> serviced </em>by the Slagmaker, so he didn’t just blow a fuse too quick to dare and feel unfulfilled.)</p><p>“What’s the matter, Rodimus?” Megatron asked carefully, voice a private, <em> undemanding </em>, murmur.</p><p>Rodimus opened his mouth to say ‘nothing’, but then thought better of it, actually. Megs could tell, he knew, and there shouldn’t really be a need for lies or evasion between them at this point, should there? So he shut his mouth instead and turned his head, trying to assemble it into an inoffensive kind of statement.</p><p>“I….um, don’t take this the wrong way, okay? But I thinkkk I might want you to be…less careful?” he finally said, flopping his helm about again so he could stare at Megatron, see his reaction.</p><p>He did seem a bit shocked. Score one for managing to surprise the big planner-aheader, huh?</p><p>Megatron stayed put at the foot of the berth, his large, heavy hands resting on Rodimus’ splayed thighs, each of them so big as to encircle his limb if he’d close his fist, so broad as to cover most of the length of his inner thigh. Rodimus’ abdominal components tightened until he shivered, pelvis arching slightly off the berth, accompanied by a sigh. Megatron didn’t miss it, judging by the calculating look he gave Rodimus, and then his own hands.</p><p>“I had thought that would be ill-advised,” he admitted, looking apologetic. Rodimus hated how such a mech, a…<em> a Megatron </em>, could look so much like a sad turbopuppy. Should have been impossible. “I…know I need to watch myself.”</p><p>Rodimus made a bit of a face and squirmed under the worried red optics. “Yeah, makes sense.” He should have known, probably, since he knew Megs really had changed. Of course he’d avoid anything that might remind him, or Rodimus, of the worse past…particularly with the kind of history they had. And having perhaps ended up watching particularly often and closely, Rodimus knew well how Megatron took care to handle everything from datapads to energon cubes. He held all those not-even-that-fragile items with a light touch, looking ridiculous in the process, with such a <em> dainty </em> grip. It was endearing as Pit.</p><p>Yeah, they were just going to have to <em> talk it out </em> like responsible, mature mechs.</p><p>Rodimus winced again and then sighed, relaxing onto the berth, even with his panels wide open and valve leaking. Megatron got up and <em> licked his lubricant-shiny digits clean </em> , damn that slagger, <em> what </em> gave him the right to do <em> that </em> while just looking thoughtful...</p><p>After he’d struggled his processing power back from his horniness protocols, Rodimus onlined the optics he’d shut to gather himself and shifted on the recharge slab, grabbing one of his premium organic-made soft pillows and smushing it against his front as he curled sideways so he could keep optic contact while speaking, even if at a 90 degree tilt. Megatron seated himself on the edge of the berth, looking at him expectantly, with an encouraging little smile, even. The fragger probably thought he was cute. And he was damn right to think so.</p><p>“I’d like you to fraggin’ slag me,” Rodimus said into his pillow, voice muffled. He stared unblinking at Megatron, determined not to miss his reaction. Imagine, he thought with exasperation equal parts fond and frustrated, that he’d have to closely watch <em> Megatron </em> for trying to ignore his own wants and needs in favor of someone else. 800 years in a parallel universe didn’t seem enough to explain such a change.</p><p>Megatron’s heavy brow did twitch towards worry, and red optics looked aside momentarily, contemplating. He faced Rodimus head on again soon enough, though, wearing this aggravatingly…parental expression. Rodimus had seen it in human movies from time to time.</p><p>“How exactly?” Megatron asked, patient like a glacier and <em> careful </em>.</p><p>“Like…<em> taking </em> me against the wall and pressing me down into the berth, and well, <em> using your spike </em> for once,” Rodimus answered, and he couldn’t keep himself from sounding a wee bit annoyed with the last part. He vented into the pillow, slightly disappointed with himself. Just slightly, though: it was probably an actual crime not to offer to spike Rodimus even <em> once </em> during like three sexual encounters.</p><p>Megatron’s lip plates twitched, which instantly raised Rodimus’ spirits. Humor was good! His spoiler twitched hopefully.</p><p>“I would love to, but…I fear compatibility would be an issue,” Megatron said in such a roundabout way it hardly fit his image at all. Rodimus gave him his most fed-up look.</p><p>“We both know you can mass displace if it really comes to that,” he remarked, though he would have to admit that solution was hardly ideal. The way Megs was so much bigger than him was a significant part of the charm, after all.</p><p>Megatron chuffed a big ex-vent, smiling so fondly down at Rodimus that it made his internals flutter. There was a mischievous sort of amusement there too, which kind of made him excited. Seemed like Megs would probably be game.</p><p>“If I understand correctly, there is an element of role play in what you are after?” Megatron inquired politely. “If I were to ‘fragging slag you’? Or to simulate it, anyhow.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Rodimus admitted, refusing to miss a beat despite the sudden clench he felt in his internals, and nodded into the pillow. “I’d appreciate it if you actually made <em> use </em> of being way huge and strong some time. Plus I like dirty talk. And uh, <em> being spiked </em> .” He cleverly cloaked any further frustrations in a dry quip stating the obvious. Of course, in reality, he wanted more than that: he had this somewhat vague daydream scenario of…of Megatron just…fragging <em> using </em> him, overpowering, overwhelming him. Maybe while telling him how badly he was outclassed, too. In like, a <em> commanding </em> tone, the kind everybody knew Megs could absolutely do. But Rodimus realized full well the mech himself might not enjoy that. Seemed like it might remind him a bit too much of the bad stuff.</p><p>He seemed to be thinking, now, optics dimming as he regarded Rodimus thoughtfully. One of his huge, black hands moved closer, palm turning upwards in a wordless plea. Rodimus gave him one of his servos, and Megatron started petting it gently with his thumb.</p><p>At length, he spoke, every word still carefully measured: “…I do believe we can find a way for both of us to enjoy such a scenario…” He didn’t have a chance to say more as Rodimus surged up and threw himself at Megatron, hanging himself around his neck, warm chassis scraping against Megatron’s front as his racecar engine purred joyfully.</p><p>Rodimus decided he liked the mischievous kind of smile the most out of all the ones Megs had.</p><p>--</p><p>It took a good half a shift of boring negotiating, and debating details, and putting into words things that Rodimus rather would have left vague and undefined even inside his own processor, except it wasn’t actually boring at all in the end—not when the subject matter managed to rev Rodimus up every couple of minutes. But, they did get around to the fragging, blessedly even during the same evening.</p><p>They wouldn’t go for any of the violent stuff, at least not yet, but Megatron had agreed to the dirty talk delightfully easily. And definitely <em> the most </em> importantly, Rodimus was finally going to get spiked within an inch of his life!</p><p>Rodimus was now laying down over the berth, and Megatron was hovering over him like a destroyer-class landing ship about to take over a poor, helpless encampment of strangely eager settlers. Rodimus was running hot himself, but it didn’t stop his sensors from registering Megatron’s chassis giving out warmth as well. He stared up at the simmering glow of Megatron’s optics, and the little smile he kept wearing. As he watched, it stretched a little wider, a little meaner. Rodimus vented hot air, shivering with anticipation.</p><p>“I’m glad you brought this up,” Megatron told him as his hand slid down between Rodimus’ legs, for once without any hesitation: just slow and deliberate. “I love to know what you want. And thinking of what I am going to do to you…” Megatron paused, and Rodimus could hear his vents rattle quietly as he closed his optics for a short moment with a savoring expression. Megatron was <em> visibly </em>so hot for him, it was amazing. “I can hardly believe my luck.”</p><p>The red light of Megatron’s optics fell on Rodimus again and he made a small noise, legs twitching open wider to encourage Megatron to go for it, already. Again. Thankfully, a digit pushed in and Rodimus gasped, optics riveted on Megatron’s intense gaze as he bent even lower to nose the side of Rodimus’ face.</p><p>“I’ll stuff your little valve so full you won’t be able to walk out of here afterwards. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Megatron growled quietly right into Rodimus’ audial, calm and private, vocalizer set so low his voice shook Rodimus’ chassis. Rodimus’ ventilations caught and he arched backwards, whining desperately. His hot valve squeezed down on Megatron’s digit, desperate for more.</p><p>“Is that a yes?” Megatron demanded persistently, annoyingly collected—smugly amused, even. Rodimus could feel his smile against his audial, at least until he stuck out his glossa and gave it a wide lick, and then a suckle. Rodimus jerked again and squeezed his arm harder around Megatron’s neck, squeezed the edge of his forearm plating, another shrill groan torn from his voice box. Megatron’s digit, just the single one, was pumping into him with frustrating care, caressing the sensory nodes along the walls of his valve with steady insistence, making his calipers constrict and try to pull it further in.</p><p>“YES it’s a yes, you, uuugh, fragger…!” Rodimus managed to groan, and pushed himself into Megatron’s hand for good measure. “More, gimme more…” he moaned, pushing his forehead against Megatron’s chassis.</p><p>Megatron’s engine revved in a delighted rumble, and his big, clever digit drew back with a wet noise that made Rodimus whine again, dentae clenched. He constricted his valve, reluctant to give up the digit that’d been filling him so nice—but not enough, not when he knew there was more—and the drag of roughly worn plating was so good…</p><p>Ever so carefully, engine still rolling an encouraging rumble, Megatron teased in a second digit. Rodimus’ cooling fans picked up pace, despite having already worked at maximum, or so he’d thought. He relaxed his pelvic components as best as he could, when really he wanted to <em> squeeze </em>, and voiced a thick, wordless sound. The two digits weren’t the biggest thing he’d taken over the years, but they were the biggest in a good while…much to his frustration. No doubt Megatron’s spike would be bigger, the way he’d been holding out on giving it to him…or even showing it to him.</p><p>Rodimus felt Megatron’s palm cupping the front of his array, second digit now sunk in to the knuckle. That deep voice kept murmuring encouragement and filthy promises in equal amounts, and Rodimus could feel Megatron’s frame shaking with held-back lust. His own ventilations shuddered, but he felt ready, open and wanting.</p><p>“Come on…” he moaned, pulling on Megatron’s armor.</p><p>The trembling undertone in Megatron’s deep, controlled vents was at least somewhat satisfying. “Don’t be hasty,” he said, holding off, but only just. His digits squelched in Rodimus’ valve, and now, he made to add the third one. “It would be <em> all </em> too easy to break this tight little port, if I were to rush it.”</p><p>Rodimus’ ventilations caught with the stretch, and his engine gave a high-pitched whine as his spoiler shivered tensely. Oh, it was just this side of pain, an edge of burning, but it felt so good inside, his valve channel being forced open and all the sensory nodes sparking with stimulation, even when they weren’t directly touched. Oh, this was exactly why he liked his toys huge…</p><p>Soon enough, the burn was no more, only a delicious, <em> delicious </em> pull at his port, with Megatron’s broad digits steadily pushing in and pulling out, and ohh frag yes, scissoring just a little bit wider, curling against the soft wall…</p><p>Megatron really took his time until he was content, and Rodimus’ vocalizer joined his cooling fans and motor in labored squeaks and whines. He wanted more, deeper, the bare charge of a conductive spike… He forced his optics online, staring up at Megatron’s huge frame hovering above him, his pleased, easy smile. He could feel the powerful engine rumbling just like he heard it, and moaned a sigh, pelvic joints relaxing utterly.</p><p>Rodimus had been too busy with the digits up his valve to notice Megatron unsheathing his spike, but he saw it now as the mech crawled further over him. So much for that relaxation: his whole frame drew taut with a zing of fresh electricity, and a needy whine escaped his voice box. He had grasped Megatron’s forearm and lower bicep as if to ground himself, but he couldn’t take his optics off it: Megatron’s spike, finally, for him…</p><p>It was, well, more than proportionate. Rodimus had to swallow excess oral lubricant, and he tried to will his valve to cycle open again: he could clamp down when they’d gotten that huge thing inside him first. Oh, it was beautiful. Long and perfectly shaped with a gentle curve in the middle, where it widened even thicker than the base of the shaft, and not to mention the little blunt ridges that’d tease an anterior node just right…</p><p>Megatron rumbled contentedly, no doubt happy…no, <em> smug </em> to see how thirsty Rodimus was for his spike, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind even a little bit. Yeah, he wanted that massive, charged-up spike. He loved it already. Megatron could be as smug as he wanted about his unfairly amazing equipment, as long as he just jammed it inside Rodimus, preferably <em> yesterday </em>.</p><p>“Gimme,” Rodimus whined desperately, and Megatron’s engine growled in response. Gratifying. It seemed to finally be enough for him to do it, too: Megatron angled his broad hips lower, weight resting on one hand braced on the berth next to Rodimus, the other moving one of Rodimus’ orange thighs up and to the side, opening him as much as he could. The heavy spike head nosed at Rodimus’ hot, slick valve housing, and he sucked in a huge ventilation, arching up in anticipation.</p><p>“Relax, or I won’t be able to get in,” Megatron ground out, and his gravelly voice was finally no longer measured and polite, but strained with lust, lust for <em> Rodimus </em> . He answered with a desperate whine and twitched, trying to push himself against the connector that was so so <em> so </em> near. It took a warning growl to make him try and settle, finally, and he let go of Megatron’s arms to hastily push his hands down and spread his own valve wide.</p><p>The next rumble from Megatron was pleased, and Rodimus answered with a thrilled little sound. Guided by his hand, Megatron now, finally, finally, pushed his connector against Rodimus, pressure settling against his dilated opening.</p><p>Megatron had to move his hand to hold Rodimus down so that the power and weight of his thrusting hips wouldn't just shove Rodimus across the berth instead of getting that glorious spike inside him. Rodimus’ frame creaked with the weight on him, air rushing out of his vents. He did his best to relax, and his port fluttered greedily open, trying to suck in the broad spike tip, contractions traveling up his achingly empty valve. Finally, the lubricant-slicked crown of the spike slid in past the taut rim, just barely, and Megatron took hold of Rodimus’ hips with both hands. His thumbs met over Rodimus’ abdomen, such <em> big </em>hands, and he rose to his knees, dragging Rodimus with him.</p><p>Rodimus was breathless, panting and running too hot for his fans to cool down. His valve probably felt nigh-burning for Megatron, who released an exhilarated ventilation and pushed further in. Rodimus felt like a meshlight, a frag toy in his hands, twitching minutely with the charge coursing in his systems.</p><p>It was so much: he felt like coming apart. No pain though, just the strain, just the fullness, the heaviness, inside him: He was gasping and moaning and squeaking without care, and Megatron answered him with delighted revs and rumbles. It felt like it took minutes, Megatron pushing in slowly, slowly, in careful nudges.</p><p>And then the bulging spike hit something inside Rodimus: not a hard stop or a wall, but an immovable narrowness… Megatron grunted curiously, and his digits around Rodimus’ aft and waist twitched. Rodimus himself had been panting and tossing his helm, but now struggled to look up at his partner questioningly.</p><p>He saw that Megatron was just about halfway in him and promptly clenched hard around the part that was there, drawing a rather loud huff from the old mech as his back cables twitched tight, gray frame snapping straighter above Rodimus.</p><p>Rodimus’ vocalizer onlined after a couple abortive clicks, breaking up with static and breathy with exhilaration. “Oh, you slagger, how are you <em>so</em> <em>big</em>, just, stop stalling, push it <em>in</em>, I can take it—“</p><p>“You can’t,” Megatron said, cruelly. Rodimus’ face twisted and he tried to buck his hips, only to realize the motor relays of his pelvis were numb and unresponsive. That was new. Possibly an automated response to keep him from breaking anything with such a big intrusion jammed inside all that crucial and sensitive equipment? All of his pleasure sensors were working just perfectly, though.</p><p>Alright, maybe Megatron’s tone had been more like strained and worried rather than cruel, but claiming he’d deny Rodimus the full experience of riding that monster spike was, regardless, <em> absolutely </em> cruel.</p><p>“Your pelvic rim, the load-bearing joints,” Megatron analyzed, the barest lacing of static in his voice. “I had suspected the possibility...they’re just narrow enough for me to be unable push through.” He was tracing a light digit over Rodimus’ hip joints and across his lower abdomen. “I will not force it: it would lead to injuries.” And Megatron wouldn’t have that, he’d made it abundantly clear.</p><p>Well, scrap.</p><p>Rodimus felt like crying, but out of frustration instead of pleasure, this time. His nether regions were mostly numb and unresponsive, sure, but that was really just all the unexciting locomotive parts. His interface array was perfectly active and online, throbbing with unreleased charge and feeling Megatron’s softly pulsing spike <em> very </em> clearly, the girth and push and overwhelming voltage waiting to ground inside him, everything.</p><p>Rodimus knew he should be reasonable here, just enjoy what he could get, even if it was just half—just <em> half </em> that was already spreading him to his very literal limits in terms of width and making him incoherent. But it wasn’t fair! He wanted <em> all </em> of Megatron, all of that huge fragging spike. He wanted it for himself, and he wanted to give Megatron that, to take him in all the way. Accept all of him. And he knew his valve had more space, more depth tucked at the back, past the constriction of the ball joints of his hips. It just wasn’t <em> fair </em>.</p><p>Megatron pulled back fractionally, drawing a shrill hitch of breath from Rodimus, and then rocked back in, fitting the tapered tip of his huge, fat spike in that narrow spot. His expression made the action seem apologetic, placating.</p><p>“I could displace some of my mass, just enough to fit through,” Megtron eventually suggested thoughtfully, holding himself still and tense. Rodimus rolled his head on the berth and stared into his optics, mouth ajar. Almost sounded like Megs wanted it as bad as he did…</p><p>Rodimus’ vocalizer spat hopeful static, and he reached a weak hand towards Megatron’s stupid, worried, handsome face. He tried again: “Yeah, please, anything. I want you all the way, I, I want you…”</p><p>Megatron’s huge engine rolled like thunder, and he finally seemed to get the memo of just how much Rodimus wanted everything. He smiled, narrow and intense under focused optics, and his hand came to rest over Rodimus’ on his cheek as he bent closer over the flame-embellished frame. He tilted his hips just so, forcing his spike so tight into the too-narrow pass that it was almost enough to fulfil those unacceptable fantasies Rodimus had, of Megatron just wrecking him and forcing him to come apart at the seams.</p><p>Holding Rodimus’ gaze, Megatron lurched fractionally smaller with the activation of his mass-displacement function.</p><p>Rodimus didn’t even have time to feel sorry for the loss, because Megatron’s spike diminished along with the rest of him and, having been pushed as far into the slick tightness as it would go, slipped deeper. Rodimus’ backstrut curved and he keened, falling into panting ventilations immediately after. Megatron had gotten smaller, but it felt like the opposite with him sinking in deeper and deeper, overflowing lubrication helping along the thick curve of his connector as it breached that narrow spot and—yeah, even shrunk, drove up right to the back of Rodimus’ valve.</p><p>Rodimus screamed, he was unashamed to admit. He’d like to see the mech who didn’t, in fact, when stuffed up to the optics with supercharged spike.</p><p>“Ohh, Rodimus… You are a marvel,” Megatron told him, voice wavering with emotion like he really meant it. Rodimus whimpered and tried to clench, which, he couldn’t. But it was a damn nice try. By the sound of Megatron’s softly hiccupping engine, he thought so too.</p><p>Megatron was on him, heavily armored frame now pressing him flat into the berth, even when slightly shrunk. Rodimus’ cooling fans were screaming and he groped and tugged at the angles and holds on Megatron’s torso, trying to encourage him to move. Their armor plates clattered softly against each other where Megatron rose up slightly, mismatched rpms making them shudder at different speeds. And he moved.</p><p>Rodimus gasped ‘oh’ loudly, and kept repeating it louder and louder with each of the small back-and-forth nudges of Megatron’s hips. His array was on fire, <em> pleasant </em> , warm fire and delicious tingling bursts of feedback, Megatron’s voltage trying to match up with his own. And it was so thick, pressing against absolutely <em> everything </em>: Rodimus almost forgot it wasn’t even Megs’ actual full size.</p><p>“Rodimus…Rodimus?” Megatron panted right above Rodimus’ audial, and he responded with a questioning squeak. It was all he had at the moment, mouth hanging open and the components all across his frame seizing up with the sensory feedback, the building charge.</p><p>“Rodimus, I think I could attempt undoing the—mass displacement,” Megatron went on breathlessly, even faltering minutely. It made Rodimus feel rather proud of himself for sure, and then the actual meaning of Megatron’s words finally registered in Rodimus’ processor.</p><p>“Nghk?” he queried shrilly, and Megatron bucked into him, pressing, <em> so </em> deep, grinding right up against the terminal tactile sensors in the very deepest point of his valve.</p><p>“The problematic…portion of my spike has cleared the narrow spot,” Megatron groaned like a very questionable educational holovid, grinding up into Rodimus all through it like he couldn’t stop himself. “If you…if you feel your components can take the, the strain…”</p><p>“The stretch,” Rodimus breathed, digging his digits in Megatron’s seams, and then his back strut spasmed in an effort to make him arch off the bed, only to be foiled by Megatron’s massive bulk bearing down on him. He grunted, too, one optic flickering off, seemingly enjoying the way Rodimus’ valve tightened around him as he almost overloaded. His spike seemed appreciative too, throbbing and twitching, and Rodimus could feel it all with how tight he was stuffed.</p><p>But he could have more?</p><p>“Yes,” he ex-vented along with scalding air, staring up at what he could see of vast planes of gray steel. “Oh, yes. Sure. Can take it, yeah, yeah—“</p><p>“Yes, I have taken a look at your schematics,” Megatron murmured. “I know you can take it—theoretically. But tell me if it becomes uncomfortable—“</p><p>“Yes!” Rodimus shouted, cutting Megatron off: a bit rude maybe, but come on. Megs was holding out on him again. But if he’d checked those things on Rodimus’ medical file, that meant he’d looked it up, been <em> interested </em>…</p><p>“Yes! Gimme, stuff me, f—ooooohh….!” Rodimus was cut off in turn as Megatron grew again, and frag— It felt like he was going to burst, there was a weight inside him, swelling, hot and alive and surging with power, grinding over all of the sensory nodes studding the silicone walls of Rodimus’ valve. Without Megatron moving at all, apart from how his <em> everything </em> stretched and grew a notch and two.</p><p>Rodimus could feel it clearly, that huge spike putting pressure on the ball joints of his hips, from the inside—it was probably good his autonomous programs had him limp from the waist down. Still, it didn’t hurt: that thickest part of Megatron’s spike was now past the narrow of his hips, pushing deeper where his valve could stretch to accommodate, and all his sensors were reading was intense and pleasurable pressure. He could have sworn he heard his armor creaking as what was inside him and already snugly filling his port swelled bigger, thicker, longer…</p><p>A portion of Rodimus’ outer, abdominal armor gave a small noise, perhaps best transcribed as ‘spak,’ and unlatched from the surrounding ones. Rodimus instantly forced his optics to focus and stared down across his flame-decorated chest plate, just as Megatron obligingly raised himself on his hands.</p><p>Sure enough, Rodimus’ middle was bulging out minutely, just enough to have—to have forced his armor to unbuckle, with the sheer size of the connector shoved inside him.</p><p>It took a while for Rodimus to register the high-pitched note as his own cooling fans, screeching under the effort to cool down his feverish frame. It was a toneless duet with the steady, insistent rumble of Megatron’s engine, and both of their gasping manual ventilations, small grunts and whimpers.</p><p>Megatron moved his hips experimentally, but instead of the spike sliding in and out, <em> Rodimus </em> was dragged on the berth, aft sliding on the metal. Megatron was stuck.</p><p>Rodimus overloaded.</p><p>--</p><p>Rodimus’ conscious processing onlined again and his chronometer showed just a couple seconds missed. He was still shuddering with aftershocks, feeling strutless and drooling oral lubricant from his lax mouth. He soon realized Megatron was hovering above him, also shaking slightly with his optics shut, propped up on his hands both sides of Rodimus. The air smelled like ozone, but it was clear to anyone’s sensors that Megatron had yet to unload the charge he’d been building in his systems.</p><p>Rodimus mewled, that was the only way to describe it, though he’d tried to ask if Megatron was okay. Red optics flickered on then, casting a soft glow down on Rodimus’ wide-opticked face. Harsh ventilations made thick armor plating rattle minutely as Megatron apparently did his best to gather himself.</p><p>“May I?” gritted out of Megatron’s raspy vocalizer, staticky with excess charge. It took Rodimus a few spins of his logic circuit to realize he meant overloading. Rodimus might have reminded the mech this wasn’t how their scenario was supposed to have gone, but sadly, he couldn’t actually form any words. He nodded his chin fractionally, emitting a high-pitched beep of binary.</p><p>True to himself, Megatron understood the affirmative just fine. His tense expression melted into a spark-achingly tender smile for just a moment before he seized up with the burst of energy crashing through his circuits. The old warlord dropped his helm, chin to chest block, optics again scrunched shut and dentae gritted. He bucked into Rodimus, making his spent and stretched array twinge with dull pleasure—despite how he mostly couldn’t feel anything down there at the moment, much less even dream of moving his hips or legs. Again, all of Rodimus jostled on the berth, and all he could do was lie there, limp and thrilled. Rodimus stared up in awe, smiling vacantly as he enjoyed the best possible view of Megatron’s explosive overload. </p><p>Even when Rodimus felt heat bloom in his core and an inordinate voltage of power ground into his already taxed systems, he couldn’t bear to look down and lose sight of Megatron’s face scrunched up in clear pleasure. <em> Rodimus </em> had done this. Rodimus had given this to him. He felt so warm inside: sure, low and near his hips—but also high in his chassis, in his spark. That was probably love or something, he’d guess.</p><p>Megatron uttered a strangled, wordless grunt that extended over two ventilation cycles, and then relaxed slightly, joints loosening up again as he panted. His hips were still twitching up against Rodimus, making little wet noises and little scuffs of metal on metal. Rodimus found himself also panting, and perhaps all that charge Megs had dumped helped his circuits reactivate, because he managed to lift his arms and caught Megatron’s silly, handsome face between his palms. He didn’t look like the famous Slagmaker anymore: he looked <em> soft </em>, maybe a little overwhelmed. Rodimus hadn’t seen that look on him before, and it made his spark pulse with that sweet kind of warmth.</p><p>As always, Megatron was easy to lead down into a kiss, sloppy and interspersed with happy little noises.</p><p>Rodimus’ ventilations didn’t settle though, and after a short bout of kissing, he pushed at Megatron’s face to get himself enough room to look down between them. His hips and legs were still unresponsive, interface array dulled but twitching with tiny bolts of pleasure, but he thought he was feeling that hot pressure increasingly keenly.</p><p>Just as he and Megatron looked down, there was another ‘spak’ and Rodimus <em> just </em> got to see another little strip of armor pop off its alignment, and the underlying protoform twitch <em> softly </em> up to swell outwards. His vents died with a weird noise, and the contact nodes of his valve all stung with charge being forced through them again, generated by Rodimus’ irrepressible horny protocols.</p><p>“<em> Primus </em>,” Rodimus slurred in a whisper and swallowed. He didn’t even have to look at Megatron to feel he was being apologetic again, so he continued without pause: “Tha’ssso hot...”</p><p>Megatron for some reason uttered a vulnerable noise at that, and ducked down over Rodimus’ bent helm, kissing the top of it. He leaned on one elbow, and slid a hand down Rodimus’ warm plating to lightly frame his belly. <em> Damn </em>. Rodimus was so glad he’d gotten Megs to do this, holy slag.</p><p>Megatron was apparently just as—or more—at a loss for words than Rodimus, for once, and they soon ended up simply kissing some more. At length, Megatron rebooted his vocalizer and murmured against Rodimus’ plating, “I should be able to pull out soon. If you’re not uncomfortable...”</p><p>“Definitely not,” Rodimus replied before Megatron had even finished, and craned his neck to land a kiss somewhere on his jaw. “Feelin’ great.” Well, he was maybe a <em> little </em> uncomfortable, but really just a little. Mostly he felt very warm and loved, and sated. “Let’s wait.” No more mass displacement on his watch. Maybe he’d even get a little remodeling done, just a teensy bit of widening to his pelvic joints...</p><p>They stayed intertwined on the berth as they cooled down, Rodimus rubbing his face against Megatron’s armor and purring happily, and Megatron holding his arms around Rodimus like he never wanted him to leave. It was a little hard to believe that something as base as getting spiked down into the berth was what had made Rodimus feel so...mushy. It was supposed to have been for purely pervy reasons that he’d wanted it!</p><p>It was probably all that negotiation and communication and trust and such that had done it, if Rodimus really thought about it. And now he scrunched up his face because he was starting to sound like one of Drift’s mindful relationship advice datapads, Primus.</p><p>He pulled in a deep vent and held it as he wiggled his hips a little, or tried at least. Even the small sideways movement made something twinge in an unpleasant way, for the first time during their session. Megatron immediately noticed and perked up, hand going to Rodimus’ hip.</p><p>“...I sure am glad you’re a medic now,” Rodimus said, voice muffled with his face pressed against Megatron’s frame. Before Megatron could get a panic going, he continued, turning his face to the side. “I don’t think I can walk out of this berth,” he said, and it was already getting hard to keep the grin off his face.</p><p>Megatron did his best to muster a disapproving look, or maybe a worried one, but his expression was altogether too soft to really pull it off.</p><p>“Your right hip joint does seem slightly misaligned,” he said thoughtfully, after feeling around Rodimus’ pelvic girdle with a careful finger. Rodimus was definitely grinning now.</p><p>“...Please do not tell Drift I ‘fragged you so hard you literally couldn’t walk afterwards,’” Megatron sighed. Rodimus’ engine started a hiccup that signaled he was laughing silently. “You know he’d tell Ratchet, and I doubt I could live that down—literally.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, Megs. I’m sure Drift doesn’t really want to get you killed. And I’ll make sure they know I asked for it.” Rodimus sniggered brazenly at Megatron’s defeated expression, and then wiggled up to kiss it, pulling himself with his hands. Megatron heaved a sigh, but Rodimus could see the smile lurking in the corners of his mouth as he wrapped Rodimus in his arms once again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Mega thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/leclairage/pseuds/perictione">Perictione</a> for beta once again! I wouldn't know what to do without you, but I know this fic would likely be halfway incomprehensible. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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